


Amor Vincit Omnia

by Emriel



Series: Taken [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extremely Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mpreg, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Regression, Smut, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 05:12:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14634816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emriel/pseuds/Emriel
Summary: Harry didn’t expect that reaching for the goblet together with Cedric was going to end in horror. The Dark Lord divines what he is and turns him into his perfect pet.





	Amor Vincit Omnia

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the initial dialogue was taken from the movie because I don’t have a copy of the book. I’ve taken liberties to change a couple of things though. It’s more of freeform – drifting through instances with moments in between. This is very similar to my other stories… It’s another sick fic. This was inspired by [Phobia](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12760815), and [never mind the end](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3099083). These two are really awesome works. Anyway, please read at your own risk. Happy reading.

“Together. One, two, three.”

Harry didn’t expect that reaching for the goblet together with Cedric was going to end in horror.

They landed in the darkness, with the cup rolling beside them, glowing in blue light. Both of them were on the floor disoriented.

The grass cushioned their fall and both of them looked around to see they were in a strange place. A graveyard.

Harry and Cedric stood up. Cedric asked him, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. You?” Harry asked, but he knew something was very wrong.

“Where are we?”

They were still trying to catch their breath from running, and as Harry looked around, he felt something familiar. It was niggling at the back of his mind.

“I’ve been here before,” Harry said.

Cedric knelt and looked at the cup in wonder smiling, “It’s a portkey.”

He had no idea that they were outside of the Hogwarts grounds and out of safety.

“Harry, the cup is a portkey!” Cedric reiterated in wonder. Perhaps Cedric was wondering if there was a hidden challenge to the tournament, and it made sense because there can only be one winner and they both grabbed the cup at the same time.

Harry could only start to panic, recalling the exact instance of how he knew the graveyard.

“I’ve been here before, in a dream.”

There was a name written on the gravestone. It read Tom Riddle.

“Cedric, we have to get back to the cup. Now!”

“What are you talking about, Harry?”

And then, all of a sudden, pain so intense reverberated throughout his body starting from his scar. Harry clutched it, screaming. He collapsed on the ground, unable to tolerate the pain. A large cauldron flared to life before them, previously unnoticed.

“Harry, what is it?” Cedric asked in worry.

“Get back to the cup!” Harry screamed with gritted teeth.

From afar, Wormtail smiled, and Lord Voldemort’s emaciated form looked at the two, wearing the body of a malformed baby. Cedric noticed them and pointed his wand, “Who are you? What do you want!”

Harry could only look at them in horror, willing Cedric to run. RUN. RUN AWAY. His body wasn’t moving, and he could barely manage to stand up. It hurt to even open his mouth.

Voldemort hissed, “Kill the spare.”

“Avada Kedavra!” The green light hurled across the air and wrapped around Cedric’s body, his body flying upwards and down, unmoving “No! Cedric!” -dead like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

Soon, he was levitated from the floor, and even as he tried to move and struggle, he was helpless as they trapped him against the statue of the reaper which began moving and welcomed him in an unforgiving embrace. His feet was dangling from the floor and he could only moan in pain.

“Quick, now.” Voldemort commanded.

Wormtail was quick to do his Lord’s bidding and dropped the Dark Lord into the bubbling cauldron.

Harry was struggling against the chokehold of the statue. It was difficult to breathe and he was trying his best not to pass out in the hopes of doing anything – of escaping. But all he could do was bear with the pain and it was so great he could barely see. Adrenalin was high, and so was his fear. Cedric died. He was dead. Voldemort was there, before him, a baby.

The wretch of a man that betrayed his godfather was there and he wanted to kill him.

“Bone of the father, unwillingly given.”

The bones beneath Harry’s feet was dropped to the cauldron.

“Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed.” Wormtail cut off his own hand after holstering his knife. His hand went down.

Harry looked on, his heart beating against his ribcage as if it was about to burst. He had to close his eyes. He wished desperately at that moment that he wasn’t there. They’ll kill him. They’ll kill him, he thought in his head.

The man howled in pain as he tried to stem the bleeding of his stump but did his best to ignore it. He turned to Harry who was defenseless and said, “Blood of the enemy,” the man took another knife and in muted horror Harry felt the knife cut through his sleeve, and through his skin, “Forcibly taken.”

The knife came out coated with his blood. Wormtail walked away from him, putting droplets of Harry’s blood into the cauldron.

“The Dark Lord shall rise again.”

With three drops of Harry’s blood, the cauldron began to burn and with it Harry’s scar. It was as if molten fire was going through his head and he screamed.

He continued screaming in horror as the cauldron began to melt, and dissipate into a thick fog of smoke until a white skeletal figure began to form in the middle, with the darkest of magic that made Harry shiver in cold fright.

Voldemort was back. He had his body back.

It was silent as the shadows formed around the naked body of the Dark Lord and turned into a cloak. He flexed his newly formed head here and there. His face was serpentine with slits for a nose. He touched his hairless head, feeling it for the first time. The sensation of having a strong physical body. It was triumph.

Harry knew this because he felt the echo of it reverberate against his mind even through the pain.

He felt the Dark Lord’s glee.

Wormtail looked at his master in an almost confounded fascination. He could not believe it worked. That his master was back and he was the one who brought it about.

“My wand, Wormtail.”

The bone white wand was given back with utmost reverence, Wormtail bowing his head.

“Hold out your arm.”

“Master… thank you… Master.”

“The other arm, Wormtail.” Voldemort hissed.

And Wormtail's gratitude faltered but he obediently held out his arm where the dark mark was etched, and Voldemort used his wand to call out his followers.

Harry was almost delirious, and almost about to pass out. The cut was too deep. He was losing blood. Too much blood it seemed.

It did not take long until servants wearing bone white masks appeared, the Dark Lord’s Death Eaters.

“Welcome my friends. Thirteen years it’s been and yet here you stand and before me as though it were only yesterday. I confess myself. Disappointed.”

And they felt Voldemort’s magic vibrate in the air.

“Not one of you tried to find me.” His anger was toxic. Harry felt his eyes roll back behind his head.

Harry watched Voldemort admonish each of his followers. His consciousness was slipping.

And then, Voldemort used his toe to roll Cedric’s face, “Oh. Such a handsome boy.”

At this, Harry mustered the energy to speak, “Don’t touch him!”

“Harry. Oh! I’d almost forgotten you were here, standing on the bones of my father. I’d introduce you but word has it you’re almost as famous as me these days. The boy-who-lived.”

Harry tried to call out for his magic. Anything. Nothing happened.

“How lies have fed your legend, Harry. Shall I reveal what really happened that night thirteen years ago? Shall I divulge how I truly lost my powers? It was love. You see when dear sweet Lily Potter gave her life away for her only son, she provided the ultimate protection. I could not touch him. Old magic, something I should have foreseen.”

Harry watched Voldemort, come round to his followers then back to him as he said these words. “But no matter, no matter. Things have changed.”

Then all of a sudden the Dark Lord’s entire attention was on him, and he stepped closer, and closer until he was too close for comfort and Harry could feel the heat of the man’s skin against his.

He raised his finger, high, as if he was about to stab it through Harry’s skull. “I. Can touch you.”

“Now.” Voldemort pressed his finger against the scar.

Harry felt everything disappear into white hot pain. He screamed his throat raw.

“What is this? What is it that you’re hiding from me?”

And Harry found a hammering force trying to shatter his mind, as memories were read one by one. Brought to the forefront was the diary’s defeat and how Harry could speak in the tongue of snakes.

“What are you, boy?”

Harry felt an answering call in his soul and it was as if the Voldemort saw this too and a look of pure delight echoed in his features.

“A change of plans. Harry Potter will not die tonight.”

* * *

Harry wished he did.

Upon waking up, he realized the Dark Lord severed the muscles of his feet and legs, making him incapable of even running. Harry wondered why they even let him keep his hands.

They kept him in a cellar, devoid of light.

He was alone. He was naked but he did have a blanket and a very thin mattress.

For the first few days of his stay, as he woke up between one nightmare to the next, he kept shouting Cedric’s name.

Cedric's murder was fresh in his mind and he felt guilt eat him.

He crawled to the door, a metal door, beating his fists against it, but it hardly budged.

“Harry, how do you like your room?”

The voice came out of nowhere, together with a swift twinge from his scar. It was a sibilant hiss that could only come from Voldemort. Harry turned around and there he was in all his serpentine glory.

“It could be better,” Harry said with false bravado.

“Yes, I made sure to give you what you need even if you do not deserve it.”

“Why don’t you just kill me?” Harry asked.

“Now where is the fun in that? You have thirteen years of my suffering to atone for. Death will not touch you.”

* * *

Lucius Malfoy dropped by to personally cast an imperio, forcing him to eat food, but he fought it as valiantly as he did with his Professor Moody.

He started verbally abusing the life out of Wormtail when he saw him from the slit of his cage, and he saw him once but never again.

On the fourth day he abstained from eating, the Dark Lord appeared by his bedside, looking at his pathetic form.

“What’s wrong, Harry? Is the food not to your liking? You need only tell me, sweet child, and I will give you what you desire.”

Harry thought he was an apparition of his subconscious. He was beginning to hallucinate of things that weren't really there while he was stuck in solitude.

The man simply chuckled. There was no pain. The man was not real.

Harry said, “Go to hell.”

“Such a bad tongue. Speak that way to me again and I will sever it. One does not need it to survive.”

That was more like the Voldemort he knew. Harry pushed himself up with his arms and tried to pull the small blanket at his feet to cover his form because even if he was a prisoner, he still wanted to keep his dignity and modesty.

And he felt it then, annoyance and that muted pain.

“What do you want?” Harry rasped.

Voldemort’s serpentine form inched closer, fingers dragging on the bed, touching his feet, his legs, where there was hardly any sensation left.

“A lot of things… but for now…"

Voldemort tilted his head to stare at him with a mockery of concern.

"I only wish you’d eat, Harry.”

The tone was almost patronizing. Friendly.

Fake.

 _But even so._ Someone was talking to him. He was afraid but he was also relieved. He couldn’t count the number of days he spent down there, all alone.

Harry tried to quell the sudden urge to keep Voldemort with him, to keep him talking so that Harry wouldn’t lose grip of his sanity.

“I’d rather die.”

His scar started to bleed, and he groaned on the small cot.

Pain was his breakfast lunch and dinner.

Harry was so used to it, and expected it.

Voldemort was angry.

“You will eat, or I will bring your friends and kill them one by one in front of you. You will eat whatever is given to you and if you do not, you’ll regret it, little one,” the sickly sweet voice of the madman said.

And as sudden as Voldemort came, he left.

Harry was back all by himself. He thought it was a waste of Voldemort’s time, to personally threaten him when he could have sent any of his followers.

He knew what the Death Eaters were capable of, and he knew that he didn’t want to see another Cedric.

On the opposite cell, he could vaguely see someone’s rotting flesh. He could smell how rancid it was. There was even a bone or two in his room.

The wait was eating him. He was trapped with no way out. Trapped in a small space that could only hold one small cot, and a bucket for when he needed to shit or piss.

A flap for his food.

Darkness was his constant companion with only a small hole to peep out of. The hole constantly shown a small piece of light which darkened when it meant that food was about to be given because someone was there to give it to him – or when they wanted to clean his room or him. Which didn’t happen often. The hole allowed him to see who was there, vaguely, and it was from the tone of their voice that he knew who they were.

They dared not enter his cell.

Maybe they thought he was disgusting.

He ate. What is a little bit of eating in comparison to saving the lives of his friends?

The food was worse than how it started. Gruel and tasteless. He did not know what they made it out of. Perhaps the Dark Lord wanted to punish him. It felt petty but he was a prisoner. It was not like he could complain about it.

It was an effort to crawl out of bed, and back to it because he couldn’t stand up. His legs and knees hurt if he forced them, as if his muscles have broken down, but he was able to crawl if he really wanted to move. It made shitting and pissing very difficult, and in the bad days, he would end up shitting and pissing all over the floor. Thankfully, every other day, the house elves would clean him and the dank depressing room.

He soon got used to crawling around.

Harry was even thankful his bed was only as high as two bricks.

Harry did not know why he was still alive. He knew the Dark Lord wanted to kill him.

He should have died that night with Cedric.

At the thought of him, Harry felt guilt again. The people he got close to always ended up getting hurt because of the monster that haunted him.

He was losing his mind.

It could have been just a few weeks before Harry began hitting his head against the wall.

Hard enough that he felt something crack.

Hard enough that blood coated it.

* * *

“Crucio.”

Agony was transient but at the same time infinite.

How could one brief moment equate to almost feeling as if it was a lifetime?

They tortured him because apparently he was supposed to take care of himself. That his life did not belong to him anymore and how dare he hurt himself. There was a mad woman by the name of Bellatrix who kept on casting the curse. Crucio, Crucio, crucio.

It was a mad cackle. Grating baby voice. Taunting him, and then she stopped speaking in dulcet tones, her anger evident.

“You dare defy my Lord? My Lord who was merciful in sparing you? You wretched little creature. You do not deserve his kindness. Crucio!”

And his pain could not be put into words anymore. His body was a broken thing on the floor. Bleeding here and there, bruises on his arms legs feet. Stab wounds on his chest. His face, the only thing that was left unmarred save for the bleeding scar on his forehead that covered the half of his face in red.

He was passed around the Death Eaters to torture while the Dark Lord watched from his throne.

“Enough. Tell me Harry. Have you learned your lesson?”

Harry thought every time he felt the pain of Voldemort’s presence or the pain of the torture curse, he thought he felt it all.

But he was wrong.

Because pain was not only physical. It was also psychological, and emotional.

Voldemort liked to play with his victims until they broke.

Harry was stupid enough to say, “You’ll never break me. I pity you.” And all sorts of courageous words one would expect him to say.

He spat on the small mercies he was given.

“Very well then. You dare challenge me? I’ve been terribly nice to you, Harry. I do agree with Bella. I see that you don’t deserve it.”

* * *

He was not in a cell anymore but a torture room. In the morning, he would meet with a lovely cloaked figure who would attempt to suck his soul out and give him a kiss, where his only protection were thin reinforced metal bars.

He’d been hung from the ceiling with his wrists suspended high above him, pulling his arms taut, and on the good days his arms wouldn’t break.

They snapped easily like twigs.

Every day they took something from him and put it back. For a day, it was his nails, another his teeth. Maybe his ear. His hands, his arms, his hair. His toes.

They always managed to sew him back together. Maybe it was all in the head. Maybe? Maybe not.

He regularly saw the face of the man who hated him from Hogwarts and he hated him back. Severus Snape. He should have known the man was a Death Eater. The man patched him up at night like a clock work.

“Do not test his patience,” Snape said to him, one day. It was a day when Harry came back with poison in his veins, too close to death, his bones shattered, with his eyes sewed shut because they cut it open with a knife.

“What are you even fighting for? Only a fool would fight a losing battle. Give in.”

Harry did not understand why he shouldn’t fight.

A part of him didn’t want Voldemort to win. He did not want the man’s kindness, but he wanted all the horror the man could bring. He was willing to take it all, even if it did break him. Even if it was painful. Even if it cost him his mind.

But what was he fighting for?

* * *

They propped him up on a chair.

Voldemort cleaned him up. They combed his hair, bathed him, clothed him and soothed all the pain. It was almost alien to be without it.

As he sat there, Voldemort stood behind him, hissing in parseltongue, “ _Harry, I need you to do something for me. I need you to cast a spell. It’s a simple spell. It’s the killing curse. You see… you haven’t been a very good boy, and boys who aren’t good need to be punished. I told you I’ll bring one of your friends. You should know her. Hermione Granger, a mudblood. My dearest Bella had her fun so she won’t be able to talk to you right now. Now, in front of you is a child, but don’t be fooled because he is vermin. A homeless sick creature. I would like you to kill him… Your wand, Harry.”_

The man offered him a wand, and he was like a phantom, vanishing in thin air, only to appear beside his beloved friend, with knives poised above her, threatening to come down if he did not cast the spell.

The little boy was only five years old. Hermione was spread out on the floor, and the sight of her made something crumble inside of him.

“ _Please let her go.”_

“ _That depends if you please me.”_

Hermione was naked, and covered in all sorts of substances, blood, pus, and she was bleeding from between her legs.

All around him there were masked figures. He did not know who they are and what they wanted from him. Ever since he woke up from their twisted care, nothing ever made sense. Only that they wanted to torment him.

He flinched when one dagger fell down to stab Hermione’s hand.

She woke up and screamed.

“You know the spell, Harry.”

Harry’s hands were tingling. “Avada Kedavra.”

The green light lit the wand and burst through-

-into a harmless sparkle that could not even harm a fly.

“You’re not even trying. You have to mean it, Harry. You want to see him die. Imagine his body snuffed out of life. Only then shall it work or shall I demonstrate for you?”

Harry woke up then, at the threat of the curse and who it would be meant for. “No… Please don’t.”

Instead, Voldemort let one more dagger fall upon the girl. This time it was her feet.

The Dark Lord waved a lazy hand and had her naked body spread on the floor, being pulled apart by the force of his magic, and slowly, he heard bones pop and she screamed, high pitched little wails.

Just like he did, every time they did the same to him.

She grit her teeth, breath coming in and out in harsh little gasps as another knife dangled close to her breasts began to slowly make its descent, cutting the side of it very slowly, and yet she was still weakly saying, “No… Harry. Don’t listen to him.”

Harry could not watch and tried to imagine the boy’s death, as Voldemort wished. “Avada Kedavra.”

“Again, Harry. I do not have patience to wait.”

He then drove one to her thighs. And in the background, he heard the hysterical cackling of Bellatrix asking, “Oh my Lord. Please let me join in.”

“No, Bella. You will kill the girl before Harry even learns to cast the spell.”

“I don’t think itty bitty Potter can do it.”

The woman took off her mask and blew Harry a kiss.

“Enough Bella. If he does not succeed, then the mudblood will die and so will the rest of them.”

Harry felt rage at this, at the casual way how they described Hermione would die, and how they implied they had his other friends - but he also felt fear and ineptitude. He wished he was able to cast the spell or that he was stronger so that he could kill everyone else in the room. He had to try again. He had to try harder. He thought of how nice it would be to see Voldemort, Bellatrix, Snape, Lucius and all the rest of the Death Eaters dead beneath his feet.

“Avada Kedavra!”

“That’s it! Kill him, Harry. Kill him and become a murderer, like me!”

One. And the green surrounded the child who groaned in pain and fear.

“KILL HIM!”

Two. Until he felt the desperation of it because Voldemort’s next dagger was poised to kill his friend and he couldn’t think.

**Three.**

**.**

and the homeless sick child in front of him was finally completely dead.

It left him feeling strangely empty.

Then, he couldn’t move his body as something strange possessed him. He saw from the back of his mind, how the death eaters disappeared one by one, alien words coming out of his mouth, and a part of himself was ripping off… It felt like he was being skinned alive.

“ _Now, you will never die, my sweet treasure._ ”

* * *

He was back in his cell.

He rocked back and forth crying, wondering if it was worth it. He did not remember what happened afterwards, only despair.

And loss.

He felt quite empty, as if something had gone missing.

Voldemort took something important away from him and Harry was wondering if being a murderer made him less human.

He looked at his hands, and wondered why him. Why always him? He was afraid, afraid of himself and of the world.

It felt so scary, looking out of his cell.

He wished he was just away from it all.

* * *

He woke up with hands drifting through his hair, and a question from a lipless mouth, “How would you like to leave your cell, Harry? There is no more fight left in you. You haven’t caused trouble in days. I am willing to give you this reward. Hmn?”

Harry looked up at him, this monster who locked him up and tortured him. The Dark Lord had him in a loose embrace. He was nestled against Voldemort’s chest, with his head under his, and both of the man’s legs caging his smaller body in between.

 _“What do you want from me?”_ Harry hissed in parseltongue.

“ _I just want you to obey me.”_

He wondered about Hermione, if she was still alive. Was she really ever there? His memory seemed faint almost like grains of sands sifting through his fingers and he could not recall what happened to her and how he got here. Wherever this was, on the stone floor with markings etched around them.

“ _Where are we?_ ” These days, it was easy to lapse into it, the snake tongue, and it felt easier to speak it than hurt his damaged throat.

Voldemort smiled at him. “ _Does it matter?”_

Harry thought he should feel scared. The outside of the circle pulsed as Voldemort bit his finger and drew something on his chest.

 _“You see… You only need to acknowledge me as your master. One simple word. That’s all it takes. Accept me as your one true master and I will give you freedom and more.”_ Voldemort’s sibilant hiss came from behind him, echoing across the cavernous hall.

And at this, Harry felt the Dark Lord’s hands began to wander around his body. Touching him slowly. Undressing the little robe he had for modesty – burning it to ashes.

“…What if… what if I say no?”

Harry felt the pain of his scar flare to life.

“Then you will continue to suffer. I will take all of your friends and all that is dear to you. I shall rip them apart in front of your very eyes. Would you like that, Harry?”

Voldemort hissed behind his ear, and bit it. The marking on the floor began to glow and thrum against their skin as droplets of Harry's blood hit the floor.

Magic made him spread his legs and Harry gasped when a hand wrapped around his cock and squeezed. He knew what this was and he said, “No…. No…”

“Deny me one more time and I would have your friend delivered to you as your next meal. Yes, she is still alive and if you behave, she will live and I will let her go, Harry. Acknowledge my power over you… that I am your master, swear it."

Harry raised his hand to his mouth and bit it. Forcing himself not to say anything as the Dark Lord molested him.

He hardened under the expert hands, and very soon, in the quiet of the hall where the only light was a golden shimmering globe above them, the only sound was of his wet flesh, being milked for cum.

He didn’t want it, but he could not fight his body, and could not trust his mouth to say anything but his refusal.

He was crying before he knew it, and he was shuddering from trying not to give in.

Voldemort’s cock was hard behind him, pressing against his ass like a monstrous thing. Harry didn’t want to be there. He wanted to disappear. But the pleasure tasted like ambrosia. He had never felt another touch him before, let alone was he even kissed. This was too much.

And just like that, he came.

“Mine.”

Voldemort kept him spread. Scooping out his essence, and slathering it all around his bum hole – whispering a spell that made his insides feel empty – and pressing in. His fingers inside, something so dirty. All of a sudden he was on his back, and the Dark Lord’s robes melted into thin air, leaving both of them naked.

“To think, I will have you… that your body is so pure. A virgin. It is fortunate that you are, for I would have killed all those who ever tried sullying what is mine.” Voldemort inhaled his scent, and licked and kissed a trail around his neck before tilting his head back and diving deep. Kissing him. His tongue mapped his, biting his lips.

Harry felt the echo of a pleasure that was not his, and he let out a broken moan, as he arched into the body that was above him.

His first kiss.

Harry was gasping, and trying to stop his tears from falling because this was so wrong. He didn’t want it. Everything was happening too fast.

“Every piece of you belongs to me. I will ruin you from the inside, Harry.”

“Please… stop.”

Voldemort’s fingers were long, and spindly. It breached him swiftly. It pressed against him and it was very uncomfortable because it burned. The man took little care for his pleasure, only wanting to stretch him fast enough. A spell could have done that, but Harry thought this was worse.

“Call me your master, now Harry. Or this will hurt.”

Harry couldn’t fight him but he didn’t want to acknowledge the man as well.

“How stubborn,” Voldemort grinned and plowed in. He lined up his cock and entered him swiftly without bothering to stop.

Harry screamed.

Voldemort thrust inside and out, tearing him apart.

It was rough, and too fast, and Voldemort was too big. He felt something inside him tear and his eyes drew shut. He tried pushing the man away, with his arms. Struggling hard because he couldn’t take it but Voldemort didn’t budge.

He couldn’t even breathe.

“Crucio.”

Harry convulsed as agony coursed through his unwilling body and he could hear the monster sigh and gasp in pleasure. “So tight.”

And all throughout, Harry wondered why nobody bothered to save him. How come no one came to stop this man? Why was he even suffering?

At this thought, Voldemort lazily thrust and brought his face close to Harry’s whispering, “You wonder why? They fear me, and they do not care to risk their lives for you even if you’d do it for them. What is the point of fighting me, Harry? You belong to me. You have no one else. My precious soul. Just say the word.”

It hurt.

He knew they would not sacrifice their lives to save his. He was just an orphan boy. He didn’t want to see his friends hurt. He didn’t want to feel the pain.

He just wished it would all stop.

He was so tired.

“Say it.”

Harry was broken.

“Master,” came his soft voice.

Harry could feel the magic stir in the air, and it was a loss like any other as the servitude was etched into his very veins.

“Yes…” Voldemort was reverent and his hand traced Harry’s chest, whispering, “ _Mosmorde”_.

Harry felt the difference then as he laid there, the magic carrying out his master's will, crying his heart out as Voldemort soothed out the pain.

* * *

“Come here.”

Harry followed the order. He crawled towards the bath, and joined the Dark Lord who proceeded to wash the filth.

“My rules are simple. Follow what I say. My word is absolute. If you disobey, you will be punished. I give you freedom to tell me whatever you wish, only do so with respect. You’ve accepted me as your master, and I will take care of you, as my pet.”

He was such a small thing, in comparison to how monstrous Voldemort was.

It hurt. It hurt in more ways than one.

The man bathed him, taking care to keep him clean. Whispering promises and praises. His lust very evident, at how prominent his manhood stood.

And then, he was bent against the marble floor with his legs deep in the water, and Voldemort biting his shoulder. The man began plowing into him.

He whimpered in pain, as he muffled his cries with his arm. It felt like barbed wire cutting into his flesh.

“Ah, there is too much blood.” Harry looked down and saw water was turning pink, and Voldemort calmly regarded him.

“Let’s see how good you are with your mouth instead, Harry. Kneel.”

He could not fight the command.

Harry blinked away the tears and opened his mouth wide, gagging at the taste of blood and cum. His head was light from blood loss.

* * *

It was difficult, to follow every single command – from when he should sleep, to when he should wake. To what he could eat, and what he could do. Who to speak with, and what to speak about. How to act, and how to please his master – in ways he never thought would please anyone.

He kept his body bare when he lay on the bed, naked. He drank a potion, that helped with the pain, from the Dark Lord’s presence – every morning and night.

It was a controlling sort of care, but it wasn’t as bad as anything he thought Voldemort was capable of. He thought being the Dark Lord’s servant meant that he would eventually start killing, raping, pillaging, and all sorts of heinous crimes, but Voldemort assured him all he needed to do was exist and follow the small little rules that were laid out for his own sake.

All he had to do was spread his legs, and the most violent incidents were of being raped in their shared bed, or elsewhere.

Voldemort’s tastes ranged from the mellow, to the extreme. Sometimes he had to wear instruments to keep him stretched. Sometimes, the Dark Lord used snakes, caressing him, biting him.

His life belonged to his master, and what his master did with him was not his concern.

* * *

He was saddled to a horse, with an aphrodisiac in his veins. On his seat was a gigantic black rubbery thing that moved with magic and it was inside his ass, flexing and massaging his insides – especially that spot that made him see stars.

On the slit of his cock was a needle inserted deep within, and on the top was a green gem that matched the color of his eyes. It had thin silvery strings that wrapped around his cock, twisting, vibrating.

The horse was made to move, galloping, and in every instance it did, it jolted him, bringing out wave after wave of pleasure.

His master instructed him to hold on to the reigns and ignore all those who looked upon him. He was just one other pretty thing to showcase in the gala – and he had to treat himself like furniture. On his mouth was a gag, and his saliva was dripping down.

Very occasionally, guests would come by and touch him. Touch his cock, and ask him to spread himself wider, lean forwards and backwards so they could see how he was getting fucked.

Voldemort sat on his throne, watching him in pleasure.

Harry felt abandoned in the middle of the room, but with the pleasure and the inability to cum, he was just a mess.

He called out to him, but the gag was in place and no word could be understood from his mouth.

Each touch on his skin brought ecstasy.

Someone even had the gall to slap his bum, and each slap made him moan, and gasp in pleasure and humiliation.

He was begging for release. It was too much. His body couldn't handle it.

* * *

He was crying when it was over. All the guests have vacated the hall. In a few hours the sun would rise.

“Was I too harsh, little one?” Came his master's voice.

Harry couldn’t think and only wanted relief, “Please let me cum… master. Please… Please… let me.”

“Ah, when you ask so nicely. How can I deny you?”

With a wave of his hand, the torturous device the Dark Lord inserted in his cock was removed, and Harry felt instantly better. His body was twitching at every touch and he was teetering on the edge of an orgasm. "Touch... me... master- nghh... please." Voldemort took him out of the horse and carried the boy to his throne. Harry exhaustedly laid against the chair. Voldemort smirked and dove down, kissing a trail down his chest, licking his nipples, and down until lips encircled his member slowly, before taking the whole inside his mouth and down his throat and Harry thought he was in heaven.

The Dark Lord went up and down a few times, sucking him expertly, and it did not take long until he was having an orgasm. Voldemort swallowed his seed, and kept sucking until he was limp. His body was almost feverish, shaking and Harry looked up to see Voldemort smiling down at him, kissing him.

“We’re not done yet, Harry. I’ll have you scream my name, over and over.”

Harry felt fear then, as Voldemort used his magic, and Harry found himself with one knee on the chair, and another leg on the Dark Lord's arms as he was stretched open. The man groaned as he entered him.

Harry screamed his name until his throat was raw.

* * *

Harry shared a special bond with Nagini. It was to Nagini that he inevitably told all his problems because even if he kept it bottled in, he needed an outlet. Nagini was there to listen to him. Sometimes she would sneak into the bed and keep him company. Sometimes she would regale tales of how she ate things – people, animals.

Sometimes she’d share stories about their master.

When they were outside of the chambers, sometimes she would slither around his feet, and around Voldemort's. He started to perfect the art of walking without being surprised to see her slithering around because at one time, he stopped and tripped on her and that was a bit embarrassing.

He was fond of her and she was fond of him.

She wanted to eat the rat man, and Harry sincerely hoped Voldemort's uses for the man soon expire so she could get her wish. He wanted to be there to watch.

* * *

Voldemort kept him in his chambers, dressed him in comfortable robes that did nothing to hide his body. Transparent white silk. Sometimes it was a jeweled loin cloth, only covering his front, tied around his waist. Rarely was he allowed to be fully covered, and that was only when they were in social functions that required it. He was zealously guarded by Death Eaters whenever they went outside for a walk.

He had a special place next to the Dark Lord's throne, a large pillow for whenever he needed to lie down and sleep while the Dark Lord held audience with his legion of followers. Nagini sometimes curled around him, and it became a sport to see who would feel intimidated by their continued use of parseltongue. His master seemed to enjoy it when he spoke in their shared tongue, petting him, and hissing back dirty words only he could decipher.

The results of half a year of torture and imprisonment took a toll on his body and mind. The body could be fixed, and Harry regained the ability to walk. He was able to use his feet though it was taxing as if he was just a baby at first. It was mortifying to remember how many times he collapsed.

He regressed, acting like a child at times, and was easily unhinged. In some ways, when the Dark Lord created a horcrux for him from the boy he was forced to murder, he lost the ability to feel compassion for others – or care. A part of his humanity, lost forever.

But it was a small matter in comparison to the endless loneliness. It did not make sense that he felt lost, and it ached because only his master's presence could soothe it. The yearning in his soul made him painfully aware that he was incomplete.

He was broken.

Inside the Dark Lord’s chambers, Voldemort would remove his monstrous guise and transform into Tom Riddle, a visage only he was privy to and perhaps even a select few. It was as if by discarding the monstrous appearance, he stopped being a monster as well. Harry did not know how Voldemort managed it, only that he could touch Tom and know that his body was real - as real as Voldemort's form was.

Ever since he’d been transferred to his new prison, Tom wanted to pretend he was this Angel who wanted to take care of him.

Cherish him. Protect him. Love him even.

Harry did not understand why they had to play house, but he took comfort from it. It was almost too easy to fit in the role, of a love starved child needing the comfort of an older – more experienced knight in shining armor. But Tom wasn’t any of that, no, he was a King or a self-fashioned God.

That much, he repeatedly told his brain. ~~_But Tom kept him safe, brought him gifts, soothed the pain, and he was everything to him._~~

His beloved red eyed master.

For even in this second disguise, Tom was a red eyed demon, unable to discard the atrocities that he’s done all for the sake of power. He would never get rid of the taint of dark magic, and his eyes would permanently stay red, no matter what form.

“Harry?”

Harry felt the call reverberate against his being and his green eyes opened to the voice of his master. He was always attuned to his will, and like a magnet, he found himself drawn to it. He was rising from bed, his white robe untied, and he was fully exposed. At this point, he was used to his own nudity and began slowly padding towards the man who had his arms open for him.

Tom was an angel. His perfectly curled hair framed his chisled face. The face and body of Adonis. His lashes were long. His lips, sinful and it curled into a smile reserved for him. He was easily the most beautiful person Harry had ever laid eyes on. His magic sang across the room, pulling him, and before long, Harry was in his arms, taking comfort and reveling at the feeling of utter _completeness._

“Master, you’re back.” Harry said, smiled softly, unable to think against the sudden high of his master’s presence, urged by the magic that enforced his complete subservience.

Tom looked at him, kissing his forehead. The man began combing his hair, his hair that's been kept soft and wispy. Harry looked sideways and saw a full body mirror reflect how perfect they looked together.

He was this effeminate thing, whose skin had grown too pale from being hidden from the sun far too long. The green of his eyes, the red of his lips, the inky black of his hair made more prominent by his skin. Where Tom was chisled, he was soft, kept weak and tame.

“I told you, I would not be gone for long.”

Harry looked up at Tom, his eyes blank, as the man kissed his lips.

“Are you well?” Harry found himself asking, and looked at the man, carefully. Harry noticed the little things, how his master's perfect face was marred by the slight darkening ring around his eyes. He looked slightly exhausted. Harry knew it was not such an easy thing to attempt - ruling an empire, and waging a terrible war. He pressed his head closer, so he could hear the beating of the Dark Lord's heart and let it calm him. At this, the Dark Lord ruffled his hair. “I am. Do not worry, my pet.”

Pet.

Harry knew that was what he was.

Tom recounted his newest conquest. In the short six months Harry was gone from the world, Voldemort succeeded taking over Britain. Dumbledore and his followers were imprisoned. With no one left to distract him from his goals, Voldemort began to strategically build up his empire, until it was a unanimous understanding that he was now their rightful ruler. The Ministry of Magic had his banner, and the rest of Europe was soon to follow. Voldemort began to take over the Wizarding kind and the magical creatures. One by one, they have set up an allegiance with him, as long as they respected their rights and territories, they were to be allies.

Harry was surprised it was not a blatant massacre of muggles, and Tom laughed that it was going to be very difficult to wipe up billions of vermin from the world and once he set his sights on it, it would take time.

All the others who did not join him, Voldemort tortured or killed.

He tried not to let it bother him.

It was all in the past, just like the phantom memories of his cage and the torture that the man had put him under.

He shivered at the memory.

“Harry, know this. I promised I won’t hurt you if you do not deserve it. You’ve done me no harm, and you’ve followed all my wishes. Your obedience pleases me.”

The praise was good.

It kept Harry happy but he still couldn’t stop the tears because no matter how much he begged before, Tom never stopped. Harry still couldn’t understand why he was being so kind. It was jarring to think of Voldemort and Tom as the same entity, as if it was just a mirage.

That Voldemort was his evil twin, but he knew they were one and the same.

* * *

At the onset of tears, Voldemort paused his tale. It only seemed to upset his pet.

Harry found lips pressed against his, and soon, a tongue. A mindless sort of pleasure coursed through him.

He was swiftly carried, out of the bedroom, outside into the sitting area where Tom had him on his lap, lazily palming him with one hand, while the other began feeding him breakfast. “You certainly love grapes, don’t you, Harry? Shall I feed your other mouth with it and eat it out?”

Harry turned red at the image. It was so bizarre, but he said, “As you wish, master.”

“Ah, you seem delighted. Perhaps I will use your mouth first. You have yet to learn how to suck me properly but it is delightful to see you gag and choke on my cock. One day, I’m sure you’ll learn to keep it all in.”

Harry blinked, almost innocently at this. He felt the answering hardness of his master at the thought. “Master, would you like me to suck you now?”

The heated gaze was all it took.

Harry clambered down the Dark Lord’s lap, pressing his head against the man’s clothed crotch.

When he saw the man look at him in anticipation, Harry took the initiative and parted the man’s clothes.

He took one experimental lick, before taking Voldemort in his mouth. It was hard, but it wasn’t fully engorged because his master would hardly fit in his mouth if he was. And he bobbed his head up and down, without using his hands. He did as he was taught, breathing through his nose trying to ease the rest of it in, down his throat.

The taste of precum was salty, and slightly bitter. He made sure to lick the underside or whatever he could reach and then back up to the slit. Choked when Voldemort’s cock hit the back of his throat. Felt better when there was a hand, suddenly at the back of his head, and a sigh of appreciation.

And then, all of a sudden, the door was opening, and Harry saw Severus Snape, who blanched at the scene.

“M-My Lord, I’ve come to report… as you’ve instructed but I see you’re quite,” Severus swallowed at this, “occupied.” -was the word he used and it was a tad higher than the man’s usually low voice.

At this, Voldemort pressed Harry’s face forward, and Harry began choking, unable to breathe with the hand roughly pulling him back and forth. His master was just using his mouth now, without bothering to check if he was comfortable.

“Don’t let it bother you, Sev-erus. It’s a small matter. Does the sight of me using Harry excite you? Would you like to have a taste? Well?”

Harry could not fight his master, even as tears came out of his eyes and suddenly, his master let go, and he drew back, coughing around his master’s cock.

“I do not think it is… appropriate. He is yours, my Lord.”

“Nonsense. Consider it a reward. I am using his mouth, and you can use his ass. He is clean and well lubricated. I have spelled his body to react like a woman’s cunt, only better than that.” Voldemort punctuated, and whispered in parseltongue, “ _Why don’t you spread your cheeks with your hands and show him how pretty you are, Harry?”_

Harry raised the transparent dress, and showed the man his pert buttocks, spreading his pink hole.

“I can never refuse such a kind offer, my Lord.”

Snape put down the scrolls on the table, and knelt behind the boy, stretching the child with his fingers.

“No need. He is used to taking it all in.”

Harry felt the cock enter him in one swift thrust, and he gasped around the cock that was inside his mouth. He whimpered at the pain and the pleasure it brought him, his body modified in ways that made him susceptible to feeling more pleasure out of any sexual act.

Severus used him without abandon, and it was an unsteady pace that made it difficult to suck his master, but his master would not like it if he didn’t try his best to please him.

Harry asked himself if he wanted this.

The answer was a flat no. No to everything.

But he had no choice and when left with no choice, he could only do his best to deal with it.

Eventually, Voldemort’s cock pulsed inside of him, and it was all the warning he had until it was shooting out, filling his throat and mouth with his master’s seed. “Swallow it Harry. Swallow it all. That’s it. Good boy.”

Behind him, Severus’s seed was leaking out of his bum, and the man swiftly left the room.

* * *

“Why… did you let him use me?”

Harry asked, unable to keep it to himself.

“The sight of you getting fucked by others is rare. I wanted to see your face. If you didn’t want it, you could’ve told me, Harry. All you needed to do was ask.”

Harry pushed himself away and ran or tried to. Before he knew it, he was caged against a wall with Tom tenderly brushing his face. The man was staring at him, red eyes against green and Harry could see himself in them. He was angry and he was about to cry again.

“I don’t have a choice. You know that… you’ll just hurt me… You’ll hurt me again and again if I say no to you.”

“Wrong, Harry. It depends on your manner of asking, and it depends on what kind of request it is. I need you to learn how to speak your thoughts, and how to trust me. You hardly ever tell me what you want, little one.”

Harry glared defiantly at this, “But you can read my mind! You know I didn’t want it.”

And at this, Voldemort was cold, “…but some part of you did. You long to be used by others in such an unsightly manner because you want it to hurt. Worse, you want to think it was forced on you because you can never accept that you’ve given in. You want my affection to be horrifying so you can rid yourself of the guilt that’s eating you slowly from the inside. I know precisely what is inside your head, Harry Potter. Don’t presume to think otherwise.”

Harry felt as if he was slapped at the face and his fists rammed against the Dark Lord’s chest.

“You’re lying! Just, leave me alone!”

* * *

Left alone, Harry could not breathe.

He could not think. He could not sleep.

Was this how it felt to miss someone? The thought hurt more than pushing his master away.

It was difficult dealing with it, because everything in the room belonged to his master and so he was reminded of him constantly, from the smell of the bed, to the clothes in the wardrobe. His books, his notes, his things. The scent of the bathroom, the small nuances no one else was privy to but him. He was everywhere but he was not there.

It drove him crazy. He could not bare to be away from the man for so long.

Harry felt like his thoughts were being consumed, slowly, definitely. Like the murky shallow water has turned into a deadly pool where he can only sink, sink and sink down and there was nowhere else left to hold on to.

Surrounded by the noxious thought of.

Him.

He missed Tom.

He bloody missed him too much he was falling apart without him.

But why? Why was it possible to miss someone who did so many bad things to him?

And Harry’s thoughts kept revolving around and around, he threw things and shattered them. He hated the room so much, he wanted to see everything break. He hated himself. He remembered the nights where his nightmares plagued him and he’d wake up safe and protected in the arms of his tormentor. Tom took care of him, and promised to make everything better – by slowly mending his wounds. Keeping him healthy, and providing him companionship.

He was attentive, with the things he like to eat, and the things he loved to do.

He hardly needed to think for himself because everything was provided. It was such an easy life, where the only thing expected of him was to obey.

Tom even promised to grant him access to his broom, once they’ve moved to a new castle that was being built for them.

No one else took care of him that way. No one else bothered to get to know him as deeply, asking him questions about his life, his family, the books he liked to read, the things he liked to do. And it mattered... like it mattered.

Harry screamed in frustration and tried to surround himself with pillows. Trying to stay away from reaching out for his master-

-It was easy to forget that Voldemort was evil, when they were conversing in bed and holding hands. When Tom would share stories of his childhood, telling him things he could relate to – making himself appear human and it blurred the reality of what he knew.

"Where... where are you... why won't you come back?"

One time, the man even brought him to a garden, and they sat there, with Voldemort holding him in his arms, promising him _the world_.

“ _Once I finish my conquest and all that is left is to rule, you will be there beside me._ _I can only think of you and Nagini as my only chosen companions in this long eternal life. Won’t you let me, Harry?”_

* * *

Harry dressed himself in the most modest piece of clothing he could find, a short white dress.

Opening the door out of Voldemort’s room was something he rarely ever bothered to think of. He could not even bring himself to touch the door. He never did, but now he got past that and was venturing out of his self-imposed prison.

When Voldemort promised him freedom, he meant it but Harry could not stomach the eyes that awaited out of the room. He was scared of the outside world and what it entailed for him… because he was no longer the boy-who-lived. He was the whore, the pet, the concubine, the harlot.

He did not want to be pitied. He did not want anyone to see him unless it was with his master but it hurt to be inside the room without him. He had to do something at least.

Harry stepped out of the chambers, and at once death eaters knelt before him, and stood up altogether following him around. They were his guards whose names he did not bother to learn. They were loyal to the Dark Lord and were there to protect him with their lives.

He mustered his courage and asked, “Where is he?”

Harry wished one of them would know.

“We don’t know.”

That was all they said, and Harry felt something hurt inside him which made breathing difficult because it was constricting around his neck, making it difficult to even speak. Voldemort had been gone for days – longer than he was ever gone for. He thought the least the man could do was inform his followers, Harry's guards, where he was going. So he could find him. So he could talk to him. He thought his heart stopped working – jaded and emotionless but now he just felt hurt. Harry ventured out of the Dark Lord’s wing and into the rest of the Malfoy Manor.

It was strangely empty, and the portraits followed his every movement. It was opulent in a way that could never compare to normal homes, with crystal, gold, and diamonds. He stared out the window and saw white peacocks. It was such a waste to live in such an extravagant place, but the Malfoys had a lot of money to spare.

Then, a familiar face.

Draco Malfoy.

“Malfoy.”

Harry whispered and Draco looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

Harry thought the boy was taller, or was it because his body stopped growing and he was forever stuck in that ageless form? It was a shock to see him there, and he could not feel pity for himself, because he long stopped blaming people for what happened to him. He thought the boy should be in Hogwarts, but this was his home was it not? It wouldn't be strange if Draco was there.

He stopped himself from thinking too much before it threatened to drown him. He asked the question that's been on his mind.

“Where is he?”

“Who? Potter! Why are you?!- What are you doing here?” Draco asked, unsure of how he should treat the Dark Lord’s most precious _treasure._

The Death Eaters pointed their wands at Draco, and the boy gulped.

Harry hardly noticed, and asked, “I've been living here ever since I've gone missing, or did Lucius forget to tell you? Answer my question. Where is he?”

“Where is who?” Draco asked nervously.

“My master. The Dark Lord? Who else? I need to see him now… Tell me.”

“He’s in the ministry, right now,” Draco said.

“Take me to him,” Harry insisted. Worry almost visible and it was difficult not to fall apart but he didn’t want to look weak in front of Draco.

“But I can’t. It’s not safe.”

“He told me, he already won. What’s there to fear?”

“No, my father will kill me if he finds out I let you out. What if something happens to you? They’ll all be furious. The manor is the safest place to be in.”

Draco tried to move backwards and his eyes lit up and proposed, “I know. Breakfast. I’ll have the elves prepare breakfast. Come with me.”

Harry almost had enough. His eyes narrowed, “Take me to him. Call him now or give me an owl. I will not ask again.”

“Alright, Potter. Just hold on-“

At these words, the wards trembled and the Death Eaters took out portkey, only to find out it doesn't work. “Mosmorde.”

They shot out the mark to the sky, hoping that it would be enough to alert the authorities.

“The Floo! Let’s see if it works.” Draco ran to the nearest room and found out that it doesn't. He began chanting spells, and paled further when he said, "The manor's protections have been disabled."

It was as if Voldemort felt his sudden panic, and saw through his eyes.

Harry would have fallen to the floor if Draco did not catch him.

His scar was bleeding.

* * *

Harry found himself being passed to another Death Eater, as a spell hurled against a shield with Draco panicking beside him.

“You said this place was safe!” Harry asked out loud.

“I don’t know Potter! I don’t know how it’s even possible.”

And in the rubble of the third floor, he saw a familiar figure, calling out for him.

“Harry! We’ve come to save you. I’m sorry it took this long but we’re here now.”

Harry saw Hermione, her emaciated form smiling at him with a beckoning hand. Beside her was, Ron, Professor Moody, Remus and a few other strangers he did not know.

“No.”

Harry felt dread. A part of him wished to go but if he did, he knew it would be a horrible mistake.

“Harry, come on. We’ve got to go. He’s coming back and we can’t hold on for much longer.” Ron shouted.

“Harry!”

“Come off it. I told you the he’s been brainwashed. We have to take him by force,” Came Moody’s untrusting voice.

The Death Eaters began to hurl curses, lethal spells, and Harry was helpless. “Just leave. I don’t want to see him hurt any of you! It’s enough for me to know you’re alive.” Harry tried to convince them.

Harry collapsed on the floor as the Dark Lord’s voice entered his head.

**_Don’t let them take you, Harry. The wards they’ve set up will break soon enough. Kill them if you have to. Let my servants know. This is an order._ **

He felt a part of the magic make him utter the words, “He told me the wards will break soon. Kill them if you must.”

And they fought, and Harry found himself being dragged away from the fight by Draco and one more Death Eater. “How long? We’re already down to five people. We can barricade ourselves in the main hall. That’s two floors down.”

Hermione shattered the wall beside Harry, and he turned to Draco. “That’s too far from here.”

“Harry, don’t make it difficult for us. I’ve sacrificed so much just to get you back.”

And then, a huge chunk of the ceiling collapsed. And Draco shot a spell to slow the fall and dragged Harry who could only stand there.

“Are you trying to kill him Granger?”

Harry felt as if he was having trouble breathing. It was coming out in harsh little gasps.

And then darkness.

* * *

They kept him in a cell, and he was screaming.

“Put him out of his misery, will you.” Moody gruffly said.

Hermione was shivering in Ron’s embrace running just from adrenalin, “How can you even say that?” Hermione felt outraged.

“Then do something to quiet him down. We rescued him because of a prophecy but if he’s not willing to cooperate then he’s better off dead.” Moody quipped.

“The order promised to protect him. I sacrificed myself for a plan and it worked. We can’t kill him just because you think he’s miserable.”

“Little girl, let me tell you one thing I learned. That boy is a liability. The longer we have him here, the more we stay at risk.”

“We are under the Fidelius, and it’s been proven to be effective from the Death Eater attacks, Mad Eye. If you want to kill anyone, then kill him.” Hermione pointed at the Malfoy boy who they took with them as a captive. The teen who was awake started to struggle.

“Now, now, settle down, both of you. This is no time to fight.” Remus tried to placate them both. He handed moody a cup of coffee and sat down next to the girl. “Hermione, you’ve been with him the most and you know what he went through. Why don’t you talk to him? We have the orb that holds the prophecy. We only need him to touch it.”

“There is a curse, upon him. One that subjects him to the will of… that utter bastard… Harry suffered a lot. More than I ever did.”

* * *

Harry couldn’t see. He’s been blinded. He couldn’t move his body from the bed. He could only cry out, with the sudden emptiness in his heart. He called out for his master in his head, but there was no response. It was as if the bond he had with the Dark Lord was severed.

It was painful. It was so painful he kept screaming his throat raw.

“Harry. Harry, it’s me Hermione.”

Harry tried to remove the blindfold that was keeping him from seeing.

He felt someone touch him, and he retaliated by pushing that person away. “No… No don’t touch me. Take me back to my master… I need him. Please. Please take me back to him. Let me hear his voice… I can’t feel him anymore… Let me out! Please–”

“Harry it’s alright. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you. Calm down.”

“Master will kill you all! Release me… Release me now,” Harry demanded and struggled but it did nothing except exhaust him. “Silencio.” Harry suddenly found himself robbed of his voice.

“Harry, I can’t let you go back to him. That man hurt you. Don’t worry. I’ll find a way to stop you from ever seeing him. It’s going to be okay.” Hermione assured him. Harry shivered as she wrapped her arms around him. It was difficult to be in in her arms because he was reminded of his own failure.

“It’s not your fault, Harry. We’re running away from Britain and hiding you from him. The whole house has been warded to protect you from him. You’re safe now.”

Harry tried to turn away.

Where were they when he needed them the most?

“Harry, I need you to hold out your hand and touch something for me.”

Harry did what he was told, numb and it was easier to follow commands because that was what he was used to.

He heard a wispy voice.

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..._

Harry replayed the words in his head.

“It’s a prophecy between you and the Dark Lord…” Hermione whispered and he felt Hermione take the prophecy orb out of his hands.

“We won’t let them use you. Listen to me, Harry. We’re running away. You’re not coming back to him. We’ll fix you.”

* * *

They had muggle doctors and mediwizards check him.

“It’s a bad case of Stockholm Syndrome. He is in love with his abusive captor.”

“Layered compulsions. A slavery bond. It’s no wonder he’s so attached.”

“The history shows his bones have been broken too many times. Organs taken out and regrown. The boy has a list of injuries too long to count. The boy should be dead! This is a miracle.”

“The dark mark cannot be removed. The moment you step out of the Fidelius, the Dark Lord will be able to trace you, and word has it, he is looking for ways to break it, employing the greatest of minds to do it for him.”

“We can break the compulsion, but only the Dark Lord can break the bond.”

“Merlin knows if the boy will recover, but we will try our best. You need to be patient with him. His case is among the worst I’ve handled. It’s good you rescued him this early. With cases like his, the trauma is too great.

“Be careful with what he touches. The boy is suicidal.”

“He cannot fight your war, not unless you are willing to erase his memories but even that is tamper proof. We run the risk of destroying his mind if we do that.”

“Have him practice occlumency. It will help against the future attacks.”

* * *

Several months passed.

Harry was not even sure what to do with the knowledge that his doctor presented to him. He was in love with his master. No – Voldemort. Tom.

He was healing, in a way.

That day, he’d been so worried and afraid, abandoned. He was desperate enough to leave the confines of his chambers to confess to his – to Voldemort that he loved him and that he was prepared to do anything just to make him stay. That he was right… all along.

All he wanted was for Tom to give him comfort but it felt so wrong.

He liked it when his master tucked him to bed like a child. He liked how attentive Tom was to his wishes. Even the most twisted ones, like seeing his family die.

He was so different from before.

Voldemort repeatedly told him that he was his precious soul – that a part of him lived through Harry.

Moody was right. He was a liability.

He learned that out of those the Dark Lord managed to capture, only a few were able to escape. Some of them remained within the Dark Lord’s empire, sentenced to death or a lifetime of imprisonment in an improved version of Azkaban.

Sirius was alive and was currently in hiding. Professor Flitwick, Andromeda Tonks, and a few other people were dead. MACUSA helped them, together with the few rebels from the French Ministry but they were all trying not to openly fight the Dark Lord.

They said Draco Malfoy was their bargaining chip. The boy was kept sedated.

No one else apart from the small crew that rescued him knew he was there in that unplottable house in the middle of Merlin knows where.

He saw their names plastered on the Daily Prophet with bounties of dead or alive for Hermione going up to half a million Galleons.

He saw Voldemort discard his monstrous appearance and declare to the public a story entirely opposite to the truth, that his chosen _consort_ had been taken away from him and he is only seeking to right the wrongs for the Wizarding kind. He promised the golden age.

Appealing to them when he finally won and using his charismatic self seemed to have won the man the public’s reluctant trust. He saw Tom, in all his perfect beauty, waving at the masses where females showered him with flowers.

They even wrote a piece about how Harry was a poor abused child whose life has been manipulated by Albus Dumbledore. It was like being forced to drink vomit as he read through every single thing.

* * *

“Do you remember, Harry. You rescued me once, when I was a first year student... from him. I know what he’s like.”

Ginny was a grown lady now, and she offered a warm embrace, “Tom can be so charming when he wants to. I had to go through therapy too. I could never get him out of my head. His words haunted me. I think that’s how he gets to people. He learns what makes them tick and starts exploiting their weaknesses. I know you miss him a lot.”

She smiled.

“Come with me, I know just the thing that will help you calm down.”

Ginny held his hand, and Harry followed her into the basement of that unnamed house.

Then she gave him a wand.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Ginny. Giving me your wand.” Harry stared at the wand like it was a foreign thing.

“But I trust you, Harry. We use this room to practice magic whenever we feel like it. What about bombarda for a start?”

Harry pointed his wand forward, at the dummy that suddenly sprung in the middle.

“Bombarda!”

And the ability to use his magic after having not used it for so long was so freeing, Harry smiled.

* * *

“What were you thinking? They told us not to give him any weapon and you give him your wand?”

“Ron, shut it. Nothing happened. Harry looks happier. Just look,” Ginny argued.

Ron took one look at his best mate, who sat next to Hermione, laughing.

“Don’t do it again.”

Harry thought he could deal with this a little. The slow return to normalcy and thought that maybe he could be happy even while they were in hiding.

* * *

It was easy to fall into the same sort of delicious pleasure.

Ginny reminded him too much of his mother, or the memory of her brought by the dementors.

She was soft, and her breasts were like marshmallows in their softness.

It was a kiss, that they shared, holding hands as Ginny sang him to sleep and dried his tears while he called out for Tom to take him away.

The man promised no one would ever harm him. Voldemort promised they would always be together.

Harry thought he was a liar.

Ginny told him she loved him. To know that she did made him hope that someday, he'll forget about him.

* * *

“We’ve been compromised. We don’t have much time. We have to move to the next safe house.” Moody gruffly said, and began to take a Portkey out, with an emblem of the Phoenix.

“How?” Hermione asked, looking panic stricken.

“Snape’s messages have been intercepted. They know he’s the traitor that set up the Malfoy Manor with you.”

“What about the MACUSA?”

“They’re being slaughtered as we speak. Treason against the Dark Lord. I say we should just leave him and save ourselves.”

“We can’t do that!”

“I know! So get everyone here. I'll take the Malfoy brat.”

Hermione did not need to be told twice.

“Harry, Ron! Ginny! Call everyone now. We have to go. There’s not much time!”

The sound of bombardment was heard, and glass shattered. The floor shook from the force.

Hermione took one look at Harry whose face was covered in blood.

“Harry, oh god. What happened to you.”

“He’s been like this since five minutes ago. He won’t wake and his scar started bleeding.”

"Where's Ginny?"

* * *

It was dark.

He hated the oppressive darkness.

He was reminded of the small cupboard under the stairs and how they locked him inside it whenever they thought he was misbehaving.

It reminded him of the cage that Voldemort first put him in.

Footsteps.

“Harry.”

The voice echoed all around.

“Harry, how I missed you. You belong to me. They will suffer for taking you away.”

Harry saw him, and Harry felt the same suppressed longing begin to unfurl. He could not stop himself from responding to the voice.

“Master?”

Harry saw his red eyes, and felt memories being rifled with one by one. It hurt. Tom vanished and appeared next to him, kissing his brow, and kissing his lower lip.

“Ah… they think my precious work will come undone. How foolish. I will come for you, Harry.”

Tom caressed his face.

“Why do you cry, Harry?”

At this, Harry broke down.

“No more… I don’t want… to.”

At this, Tom frowned, and wrapped the boy in an embrace.

“Stop fighting it. You will only hurt yourself. Harry, just let me in.”

“Please let me go… you’ll break me again… someone help-,” Harry was cut off by another kiss.

He was fed with so much emotion, the bond in full force he turned into a very willing puppet, gazing up in adoration.

“Never. Your place is by my side.”

Harry struggled feebly but it was a losing battle. Volemort grinned and said, “Sleep.”

* * *

Harry woke up moments before taking the portkey, he pushed them aside, and stole another’s wand, “Avada Kedavra.”

“Ginny! Ginny! Ginny… Ginny this is no time to be playing dead.” Ron tried to shake his sister awake. Moody shot a dark spell which Harry effortlessly dodged. He returned a sickly yellow curse that quickly spread across Moody’s body, rendering him incapacitated.

Harry laughed, in a way that was completely unlike him. “I warned Harry that I’ll kill anyone who tries to sully him.”

“Voldemort!” Hermione hissed as she saw how Harry’s eyes have bled to red.

Harry wiped his face, taking special care to taste the blood off his fingers.

“Divine.”

And then, Harry collapsed on the floor, unmoving once more.

The wards were breaking.

Hermione took the risk and grabbed the unmoving bodies, shouting the password for the portkey, “Semper Fidelis”.

* * *

When they arrived at the Black Manor, Hermione saw Remus and Sirius. She ran to them and hugged them, crying. Severus Snape knelt down to examine Harry Potter, “He’s magically exhausted.” He then turned to Moody, and with one look, opened his robes, and took out a vial from one of its pockets.

“This should help.” Moody opened his mouth and drank the foul smelling potion.

Severus observed his godson who was lying down on a heap next to Alastor and began asking, "Tell us what happened."

Ron was still grieving for his dead sister while Harry remained unconscious.

Harry remained asleep for days, the possession took a toll on his mind and body. They decided to keep him magically asleep, as it was the safest option to ensure the safety of the others.

* * *

But some things are not meant to be.

Harry woke up. He saw a necklace floating before him, beckoning him to put it on. He did that and thought it prudent to hide it under his clothes.

It comforted him to wear it.

When Hermione opened the room to check if he was still asleep, she thought he was.

* * *

He blinked and saw a different corridor and there was a smattering of red on it. A splash of. Red.

He stretched, feeling entirely lethargic, and it was difficult to get the buzz out of his head.

The pleased feeling.

**_Harry. Harry. Harry._ **

That was his name. He left the corridor, his bare feet leaving red footprints on the floor, in search for everyone else.

He knew where this was. Had been there once upon a time, in a dream.

It was a strangely familiar feeling.

He heard shouting from downstairs but something told him to take his time.

Told him, that maybe it was just better if he sat down somewhere and rested.

But Harry was stubborn. He fought through the haze, wishing to see his friends.

So he followed the sound and went downstairs. He saw the broken vases, the broken windows. The splintered wood and thought… why… why was it broken? He waved his hand, and the locket thrummed, letting him fix it – keeping it pretty and pristine.

Now it was safe to walk without hurting his feet.

**_Harry. My sweet little horcrux. You really don’t want to see this._ **

Harry blinked at the familiar voice.

“Master?”

Harry asked, lost.

**_I’m punishing those who took you from me. Why don’t you sleep some more? You need to rest, Harry. Sleep._ **

“But… But I want to see my friends… I can’t remember how I got… here… I want to see Hermione…”

Harry was steadily approaching the dining hall, and there was a steady puddle of blood coming from out of the brown door.

Harry opened the door.

And inside, he saw his friends and couple of people wearing black with white masks on their faces.

Bellatrix was there, holding Hermione’s hair, and whispering “crucio.” She was screaming.

On the floor, there was a head, rolling around. Remus.

Ron was screaming on the other side of the room. Sirius was lying down on a puddle of blood and vomit.

Moody’s limbs were being cut out from him.

Snape was wrapped around a snake.

“Nagini?”

She had her teeth deeply lodged into his arm.

And at the center of the room was Tom who had his arms spread out in welcome.

Harry automatically went to him. His very muddled mind unable to catch up to the current state of things. It was numb and uncomprehending.

Tom started petting him, “You’ve done well, Harry.”

Harry groaned and said, “but what did I do?”

Tom smiled, tilting his chin and kissing him with his tongue. When Tom let go of his lips, he was panting. “It does not matter. All you shall know is that you’ve pleased me greatly. It almost makes me curious how you’d react without my influence over your mind... I think you will certainly be horrified. Don’t worry, Harry. I’ll spare some of your friends. I won’t kill them all. I can let your godfather live for he is the heir to the black line. He only needs to provide his seed then he can die.”

Harry reached out for Hermione and, “My friends? Sirius?”

“Don’t hurt them… master… Hurt me instead… please?”

Voldemort’s eyes dilated, “Even under my influence, you care for the lives of your friends? Is this jealousy, I wonder? Bella, Kill the mudblood now.”

"With pleasure, my Lord."

* * *

When Harry came back to awareness, he was dressed in a resplendent robe of shining silver and he was holding Tom’s hand, who was garbed in obsidian. They were staring out at the expanse of the empire. The white walls of the castle were gleaming as they stood out looking from the terrace.

The Dark Lord took off the Slytherin locket, wearing it on his person, and Harry slowly began to recall the events over the past few months that someone else took over his body.

He collapsed on the floor, crying his heart out.

He recalled the wedding ceremony and how Harry said the vows in sync with the Dark Lord.

He recalled how one by one, his friends had been sentenced to death, and how he was the one that led the massacre in the Black Manor.

How he could not even say a word to Sirius before he personally demonstrated his newfound proficiency for torture.

He personally killed some of his friends and now he was wed to the monster without a choice.

Now they were in the castle that Voldemort built for him. A white castle which he was told he would never be able to leave, for the Dark Lord could not allow anyone to steal him again.

“Drink this.”

Tom knelt beside him, and Harry looked away. Annoyed, the man forced open his mouth and poured the liquid down Harry’s throat.

The child who was stuck in his fourteen-year-old body started coughing, and crawling away.

“What… did you give me?”

Harry asked, feeling his lower half start to feel uncomfortable – something in him twisting.

“A potion that would allow me to impregnate you.”

Harry immediately tried to put a hand in his mouth and vomit the contents out.

“That won't work. I can always force you to drink another, Harry. Do not test my patience.”

“You really don’t care about what I feel, don’t you?”

Harry gasped, and rolled on the floor as his insides twisted, and he imagined having something similar to a womb form inside his body.

“I do, but I care more about what I want than what you feel… and I want you. Only you, Harry.”

Harry thought it was almost a confession that was until Tom started tearing open his clothes, uncaring that they were on marble floor out in the open.

Harry started crying, and said, “I hate you. I really hate you. I wish you’d die.”

Harry crawled away, but Tom straddled his waist, vanishing his clothes in impatience. Hungry eyes roved over his form.

Harry stared at the blue sky.

* * *

Harry hugged a pillow close to his chest and Voldemort hugged him from behind, spooning him.

It was like a part of him just wanted to lay down and stay in bed forever.

“What more do you want from me?” Came his small tired voice. “I’m so tired, master.”

Tom slowly whispered, his smooth silky voice, saying, “I want everything.”

Harry’s hands went down to his navel, wondering if a child would truly form.

Harry turned around and looked at Tom in the eye, wondering if he was really telling him the truth.

Here was the man who tore apart the world in search for him, eliminating an entire nation’s worth of wizards in anger just because he was taken away.

“There is a prophecy… that says… we must kill each other,” Harry said, remembering the brief moment he spent with his friends.

“I don’t believe in it, not anymore.”

Tom studied him and promised, “I will never let you go.”

“Why?” Harry asked.

“Because you are precious to me?” Tom asked.

“Because I’m a vessel for your soul?’

“Yes, and more. I love you, Harry.”

Harry felt hurt, “Don’t lie to me.”

“Then what is this I feel for you? I burn at the thought of not having you with me. I think of you and of your green eyes, constantly. They haunt me. I crave your pretty flesh and I wish to be the only person you ever think of. I even wish for your happiness because the thought of your tears displeases me more than it ever did before. I want to take care of you. I made you my consort when all you should have been was a trophy and a pretty little slave. Tell me, what is this that I feel? Is it not love?”

Harry felt hollow, “but why kill my friends?”

“They were a nuisance!”

“IF you loved me, you wouldn’t force me all the time. You would give me a choice of whether or not I even want to have sex with you. You would give me a clear choice without hinting at the death or torture of anyone I love. You wouldn’t hurt me by killing my friends. You wouldn’t have other people use me or my body. You wouldn’t have other people hurt me.”

“No!” Came the Dark Lord’s swift denial.

“Then I don’t think that’s love.”

“I’ll prove it. I swear on my magic that I Tom Marvolo Riddle otherwise known as Lord Voldemort, love you Harry Potter.”

Harry was floored at the audacity as the golden magic swirled around them, and Voldemort demonstrated afterwards that he still hasn’t lost his magic.

“I love you, Harry. I do love you. What more proof do you need?”

Harry started crying at this at how unfair it was.

Tom sighed and pulled him closer.

“If you really love me… why do you have to hurt me so much? Why?”

“It’s easy. I’m a monster, Harry.” Came the poisonous whisper.

Harry felt the embrace turn into a crushing grip as his scar started to hurt, “Even if I love you, I have not forgiven you for what you’ve done to me. I know it’s not your fault I was reduced to a wraith but you have been a thorn to my side. I will always delight seeing you in pain. It is almost as good as seeing you smile. If I cannot give you happiness, then I will settle for another. I will make you scream, and I will make you miserable. I will ruin you, because that is what I’m good at and if this will keep you with me, then this is what your future will be like, in pain, and utterly miserable.”

Voldemort traced Harry’s hands, and Harry could see the insanity reflected on the man’s eyes, “I dream violent things of you, of consuming your body, piece by piece until they are all inside of me and you have become a part of me. I wish to take out your eyes and store them in pretty crystal jars so I can look at them for all eternity. I wish to unmake you – break you to little pieces and I have succeeded doing that once, I will do it again. You’ll become a pliant pet in my arms, obeying all my orders.”

“No. Please stop. Please” Harry wanted to block out the Dark Lord’s words.

“Harry. Look at me.”

Voldemort was enraged, “Look at me!”

Harry opened his eyes slowly, and felt fear when he felt the Dark Lord enter his mind, shattering memories, as he went, utterly uncaring, of the pain he caused. Harry felt his hands curl, grasping at things that wasn’t there.

“Is this what you want?”

The Dark Lord roved another hand which glowed black, and Harry could feel as if needles were poking through his skin, slowly. He writhed on the bed and Tom watched him clinically, “Shall I imprison you once more, and teach you what respect means? Well Harry? You seem to have forgotten your place.”

At this Harry whispered, “sorry… please… stop… no more.”

Voldemort grinned, “You loved the dementors. They made you crave for human contact. Malleable and your innocence shows as you cling to me in desperate need after a long session. Perhaps I should feed you to them.”

Harry sobbed.

“Harry… Harry is sorry. Master... please don't.”

“What about Bellatrix? She would love to have you in her care. Maybe I would even let others have a go at your body as a reward. You enjoyed Severus, then perhaps ten, twenty, or a hundred men would make you more agreeable to sex? You'll be nothing but a whore. Would you like that, Harry? Do you want me to take everything away until you have nothing left?”

Harry couldn’t breathe at the threats. He knew that the Dark Lord can easily carry them out.

“Please… Master… don’t. Want-”

Harry could feel bile threatening to come up, at the thoughts.

Harry saw him once more for the monster that he was, and he was reminded that Tom was still Voldemort and that they were one and the same.

He was afraid.

“I can hurt you. Harry. In more ways than you can ever think is possible. If you come close to insanity, I will erase your memories, then we can start all over again.”

Harry shook his head, feeling trapped and unable to find a way out.

It was too horrifying to imagine.

The pain was the first to go away.

Tom smiled, a pleased feral smile as he loosened his embrace and kissed his forehead, all the tenderness having returned.

The tears kept falling.

“Please don’t hurt Harry… sorry… master.”

Harry felt fingers wiping his tears and a hand combing through his hair.

Tom kissed him, then, gently on the lips.

“Then be pleasing, my pet.”

* * *

  _It was said that Harry Potter loved Lord Voldemort.  
_

_The dark whispers of the boy's torture and servitude never reached the ears of the public, and all those who broke their silence were dealt with. To the public, Lord Voldemort was a kind and loving husband to his precious consort. He was the first and last consort the Dark Lord ever took._

_It was said their union was a blessing to magic. The old ways have been restored along with the introduction of the new. Muggleborns were stolen from their respective households, to join the empire. The distinction from light and dark magic has been lifted. Complete segragation of muggles and wizarding folk has finally happened._

_The magical population flourished while muggles have slowly started errupting into a world wide war, eliminating themselves slowly but surely under the influence of the Dark Lord's magic._

_There were rebels who dared fight his rule_ _but the empire's forces overwhelmed them with their sheer number._

_Their child was born on Harry's 16 th birthday._

_It was a day celebrated by all wizarding kind. He was the first prince of their empire. A month after, there was a parade for him with the couple showing their child to the world. They stood upon the back of a bewitched dragon who crawled on the ground and breathed fire, with the Dark Lord's mark high in the heavens.  
_

_The child had power the Dark Lord knows not._


End file.
